“Judging by the exhibition he made of himself when we first saw him, I should say not,” laughed Dick.
“Well, perhaps we could carry him between us,” suggested Marjorie, “he doesn’t look very heavy.”
“All right, let’s try,” said her brother, and, having made quite sure of the direction in which the sea lay, they slowly descended to the ground again.
“Find out what you wanted to?” asked the Dodo, who had taken off his gloves, and was blowing into them to take out the creases.
“Yes,” said Dick, “there are a few houses by the side of the sea about two miles to the left; do you think you could manage to fly as far as that?”
The Dodo smiled in a sickly sort of way. “I’m a little out of practise,” he faltered.
“Well, do you think that if we each took hold of one of your—ahem—wings, we could get along that way?”
“You wouldn’t crush my gloves?” asked the Dodo, anxiously.
“Oh, you could take them off, you know,” said Dick, “and put them in your p——” (he was going to say pocket, but suddenly remembered that the Dodo hadn’t one)—“in my pocket till we get there, if you like,” he added.
“What!” cried the Dodo, indignantly, “travel without my gloves! Never! It wouldn’t be respectable. I shouldn’t think of doing such a thing!”